Inexplicable
by Apocalyptic Mirage
Summary: Fleur just needs to see Hermione.


Note: Glob, I hate writing ANs, but this seemed important enough… This does not follow with the other Fleur/Hermione story I have posted. I'm looking into expanding from that story, but I need to explore other avenues for this ship before I find a comfortable way of writing for them. This leans more toward a re-telling in Fleur's first person POV. The same disclaimer of "I hate making errors, but I know they're there somewhere" applies. I didn't write that in the last time? Meant to. Cheers.

* * *

It was the one thing I hated about Britain the most… Cold.

The feeling invaded me so viciously; sending me into a fit of shivers I could not fight as I exited the carriage. Thinking the residual heat would last me a while was so terribly wrong that I can't help being angry at myself for not knowing a more potent warming charm. I was still cold despite my best magical effort. Some _champion_ I was turning out to be...

In my defense, most of the clothes I was wearing were similar to my uniform in the sense that they favored fashion over versatile functionality. The hideously mottled cap Gabrielle had given me for Christmas (her best attempt at the manual knitting she was learning in Hogwarts' Muggle Studies) was the most helpful and kept what it could cover sufficiently warm, but the rest were a pair of fitted jeans unfit for such temperatures, a blouse too thin with sleeves stopping before they could cover the length of my arms with a sweater much the same, and a laughable excuse for a neck scarf. All were not much for the cold. And earlier that evening, it had snowed.

The grounds were covered with a veil of slush that made the packed earth even more dangerous to tread that night, and I was beyond my comfortable level of frozen, but I carried forward through it all because I must. My breathing was a laborious job, and visible.

The night sky was clouded over with not a moon or star out to help guide me. It was nearly pitch black, but I could manage darkness.

_Lumos_.

I pointed my wand down while the tip began to glow with a magical blue light. Wordless magic was an upperclassman luxury, even for such a simple thing, and a small victory that helped distract my worrying mind.

The second task was in the morning.

This would be a thing to laugh at some time in the future: pulling all-nighters buried in ancient tomes, fretting over a petty little school game… It was just a game after all, this tournament.

Just a game I was set on winning, no matter who was also entered or what we were facing.

Although I could live without the fame, the fortune, and the glory I'd receive from winning – all very nice, but ultimately unnecessary; losing was still no option. Beauxbaton pride – as well as my own pride – would not allow me to slack off. In fact, if Madame Maxime had found out about this little unauthorized venture…

I wouldn't think about it. I was doing it regardless.

Having successfully navigated the grounds to a satisfactory destination, a spot an approximately equal distance from the carriage and the castle so out-of-the-way it seemed unlikely to be stumbled upon simply by chance; I extinguished the light, and awaited the arrival of my desired company.

It felt silly, waiting so vulnerably in the dark for her to find me when I did not give a single indication as to _where_ she could find me.

The note, slightly rumpled after a few owled exchanges, was tucked into my pocket. I dismissed the urge to take it out and examine what I already had memorized.

_I have to see you tonight. Please._

The desperation in my tone seeped into my writing, not a thing that went over well with my aforementioned pride, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Vanity would be wasted attempting to hide such an obvious fact. I needed her. I knew it, and had a feeling she knew it as well; she was exceptionally bright after all.

The vagueness of the message was intentional. If the note were intercepted (I wasn't sure whether their owl traffic was monitored) then there wasn't a thing incriminating either of us for attempting to sneak about the grounds passed curfew.

She had recognized my handwriting like I suspected she would, like I recognized hers in her reply. We had plenty of opportunities to study each other's while in the library... That is _after_ she allowed me the pleasure of joining her at her favored table whenever I pleased... which was whenever she was there.

We borrowed and exchanged bits of educational information, while occasionally offering and seeking personal bits. I admit I liked studying her far more than anything else.

She took all her notes manually with this distinct style, flowing speedily and smooth in a method that avoided pointless embellishments. Mine was just as fluid, but showy to a point that disclosed my privileged background. I could write in a calligraphic script, which was the definition of pointless embellishments. It was almost embarrassing to show her. But she didn't seem to mind it.

_I'll meet you in half an hour._

Another reason I did not disclose a location was because I hoped she would supply one. She knew the place far better than I, would know where and how hard it was to move about, and I didn't want her to go very out of her way to get to me; I was already robbing her of some sleep.

Like, I mused, she unknowingly had with mine on several much less stressing times.

_Where should I wait?_

I would go immediately. The uneasiness in me was almost palpable, making me jumpy, irritable, and stir-crazy from sitting in my room with nothing more to do but strategize against oh so many varying situations in which I could find myself in but a short, few hours. Every minute seemed to multiply how terribly wrong it could go. Every hypothetical reminded me of what I could lose. Fame, fortune, and glory were the least of my worries, and a far cry from what felt like was truly at stake.

_I'll find you wherever you are._

The unsettling nerves I could not shake distracted me from realizing how romantic that sounded. It would have made my heart beat and stomach flip in ways so much more pleasurable than how they were.

I savored how she made me feel, even though it was every silly little embarrassing thing expected of the air-headed school girl I was made out to be by the ignorant masses.

One thing separated my feelings from being that of such a fool: I knew vapid and trivial things like flipping my hair, fluttering my eyelashes, and other shameless means of flirting would have no effect on her. She was too good for such things. Best case, it would go totally unnoticed; worst case, it would offend her.

I didn't sense her approach at all. One moment I was alone with my thoughts, and the next she had appeared out of nowhere.

Hermione.

It was shameful how unprepared I was. Although my wand was still at hand, my fastest reflex still wouldn't be able to catch it if she were a threat. My (underwhelming) magical fortitude was quickly becoming a sore spot. It was insufferable how weak I was.

It was also insufferable how much I did not care at that moment.

What little thought I had about this fault, it along with all other things troubling my mind became the farthest thing from it.

Hermione was there, and it was the best distraction I could ever ask for. My smile was irrepressible.

"Sorry to make you wait," she apologized quickly as she made her way ever closer until I could see her clearer in the darkness I was adjusted to.

Barren trees from their roots to their tangled branches, rocks scattered here and there, snow sitting on everything, and my breath hanging in the air; I could tell their shapes through the muted colors of the night. Then, there was her, a much more attractive sight, more vivid in my memory than anything else surrounding us. Her breathing as visible as mine, held a steady pattern while mine seemed to all of a sudden become unsure of itself. It may have stopped entirely once she was directly in front of me.

She was dressed for this weather. Thick sweater, winter coat, gloves, knitted hat and scarf that endorsed her house, and snow-appropriate boots… All were very smart ideas.

It always struck me how much more sensible she was compared to me – or anyone else, really. Defending myself once more, I think it's likely she would be better equipped for the seasons of her country than my foreign self.

I had to ask her because it was a bothersome question that remained in my mind, looking for an answer.

" 'ow did you find me?" my accent was still very apparent then. It was another tip-off to my foreignness.

She smiled delightfully, excited to explain a show of brilliance I suspected. Some of her cleverness came without a thought from either herself or anyone around her because to her, it was all so simple, and to everyone else, it was all so Hermione. It was never questioned because it was expected. They were used to it; there was never a need to look into it. But I was always curious, ever fascinated with the _hows_ and _whys_ of the girl, and she was always accommodating with the answers.

"Enchanted map," she supplied, brandishing what looked to be an intricately folded, blank piece of parchment in her left hand. "It's Harry's… I asked to borrow it after I squared him away with his preparation. It's why I took so long…"

Her enthusiasm in sharing the knowledge went away with the guilt she tried to convey in the last part. I told her several times over the course of the year, she should not feel sorry for helping her friend, regardless of if that friend is my competition. She knew Harry a lot longer. It was how it should be, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Honestly. Nothing against the boy, but he was just a fourth year; that alone put him at a disadvantage. Having a Hermione on your team would fairly even that odd. I could manage well enough without her help…

Only, I couldn't manage without _her_. She probably knew that; she was exceptionally bright after all.

"- But I'm here," she stated reassuringly, looking emphatically fierce for a moment before letting it drop softly along with her voice that took on a lilt of playfulness, "You wanted to see me?"

Such a shy smile played across her face. She knew. Of course, she knew. I subtly shook my head at my own obviousness.

"I had to see you," I stressed. Stressed is a strange word for that because in saying it, I felt relieved. My smile could not be any more sincere.

She laughed lightheartedly.

"So you've said…" she stated, referring to my original request with a roll of her eyes. She could hardly believe my obviousness either.

She crossed her arms like I had mine some time ago due to the cold. It couldn't possibly be because she was cold. She twisted a little, shuffling on her feet, and looked around. I suspected she was keeping her eyes open for anyone that could catch us. I should have been on alert too, but I couldn't bring my senses to focus on anything other than her. Being here. With me. It was exactly what I wanted.

I asked her to come meet me. She promised to find me, and had found me there in the darkness of night, and the cold – the thing I hated most about Britain.

I felt that it was I who should apologize; she shouldn't have to be there.

She didn't seem to be complaining, though. And I couldn't honestly say I was sorry we were together.

"Whatever could you want me here for?" she mused aloud in that same playful tone that said she knew all too well, which was good because I could not explain.

I could not explain how she made me feel, past the fact that I loved it and I think I loved her. Yes, I probably loved her.

I could not explain the irrational need to see her, just to see her, making me feel like I couldn't… like things wouldn't be right unless I saw her. Unless she was there. She was a necessity to my sanity at the moment. Something about her being there... I needed to know she was. Or I wouldn't and couldn't be at ease. Her presence was calming me.

I could not explain so many things that I still cannot explain.

The only thing I had a firm grasp of was that there was one thing that made being in Britain better - the one thing that made everything better, and worth it.

It was this girl, Hermione.

I breathe a heavy sigh. Uncrossing my arms though I was still very cold, I wrapped them around her and brought her into an embrace that hopefully expressed myself in all the ways I couldn't. I think she understood.

Her face sunk into my shoulder while mine buried itself in her unruly hair. Her arms unfolded and crossed around my back to return the hug with that same fierce reassurance she held earlier. She was there. She understood.

"I just needed to see you…"


End file.
